


'Tis The Season

by GravityCanFly



Series: Cabin Pressure [7]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Angst, Christmas, Domestic, Family Dynamics, Fluff, Gen, IT'S GOT WENDY IN IT OKAY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-19
Updated: 2013-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-05 02:49:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1088704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GravityCanFly/pseuds/GravityCanFly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Christmas Day. Our boys have very different plans for the day. Here they are, on Christmas day. Christmas day. Fluff. Sad stuff too, but fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Tis The Season

Martin stretched and stumbled out of his room, dressed only in his pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt so worn out it was almost transparent across his back. The smell of cooking hit him as soon as he opened the door, and he turned into the kitchen to find Douglas, fully dressed, at the stove tending something that smelled delicious.

“Good morning,” the older man greeted him.

“Morning,” Martin replied, still slightly thrown by finding Douglas in domestic goddess mode so early.

“I broke out the good coffee,” Douglas said, indicating the coffee maker. Martin filled a mug and took a sip. The coffee was dark and strong and intense, but not bitter. A completely unrecognisable beast to someone who usually drank instant. It was hard to believe that they were meant to be the same drink.

The toast popped and Douglas slipped the slices onto two plates and scooped the buttery spiced chorizo eggs over the top. He took the plates over to the table and silently stared at Martin until he joined him. Martin took a fork and poked warily at the eggs, unsure though they smelled wonderful.

“What are _those_ bits?” he asked, jabbing at one of the chunks of chorizo.

“It’s Spanish spiced sausage, Martin.” Douglas peered at his captain over the top of his reading spectacles. “Stop fussing and eat it.”

Martin slipped a forkful into his mouth and his face softened. Douglas smirked.

“Told you so.”

After Martin had wolfed down his eggs, Douglas shoved a box wrapped in brown paper unceremoniously towards him.

“What’s this?”

“Happy Christmas.”

Martin pulled the paper off the box. A small gasp escaped him as he recognised the brand name embossed in silver on the top. He opened it slowly, reverently, as if handling something sacred. Inside sat a Glycine watch with a soft brown leather strap. He stared at it, his hands almost starting to shake. This was the most expensive thing he had ever had in his hands, save for G-ERTI and Douglas’s car. Admittedly, after G-ERTI and the Lexus Martin had handled very few expensive things.

“It’s not quite a Patek Philippe.”

“It’s incredible,” Martin breathed, still not taking his eyes off it. Then he came to his senses. “I can’t accept this, Douglas.”

“It is very rude to reject a gift, Martin. You wouldn’t want to offend your landlord.”

“But… But this is too much. It’s absurd.”

“I may not have quite paid full price for it.” Douglas’s lips quirked up at the corners.

“I only bought you a second-hand book!”

-

“Martin!” Wendy cried, opening the door to her youngest son, laden with carrier bags on the doorstep.

“Hi Mum,” Martin greeted her, stepping inside. He dropped the bags and leant forward to kiss her on the cheek. “Hi Cat,” he said, noticing his sister poking her head out from the kitchen.

“Where’s that nice young man you’re living with?” Wendy demanded. “You did ask him, didn’t you Martin?”

“He’s hardly young,” Caitlyn scoffed.

“Don’t be unkind, Caitlyn,” Wendy admonished her. She looked expectantly up at Martin.

“I did invite Douglas, he didn’t want to come.”

“He’s going to spend Christmas in that house all by himself?” Wendy gasped. “No, that won’t do. Go back and fetch him.”

“No, really, Mum. I tried to persuade him, but he wouldn’t come.”

Wendy sighed. “I’ll phone him and ask him to come.”

“No,” Martin said firmly.

“He’s a grown man, Mum,” Caitlyn added. “You can’t force him.”

“Fine!” Wendy threw her hands up. “But you two are responsible for a man being alone on Christmas.” Martin and Caitlyn exchanged exasperated glances.

Martin searched for a subject change. “When’s Simon coming?”

“They’ll be here at half twelve. Now come on you two and help me peel the potatoes.”

-

Warmth filled Douglas’s chest as he heard his daughter’s voice coming through the phone.

“Hello darling,” he greeted her. “Happy Christmas.”

“Hi Dad,” Isobel drawled, “Happy Christmas.”

Douglas grinned, recognising the way she had roughened her accent and knowing that when she went back to school it would be all clipped vowels again. “Are you having a good day so far?”

Isobel sighed dramatically and Douglas could almost hear her eyes rolling. “Thomas woke me up at half past five. Richard gave him strict instructions not to wake him and Mum until eight, so he woke me instead.”

“You got that excited about Christmas once,” Douglas teased.

“Oh, do you remember?” Isobel spat. The warmth in Douglas’s chest froze at once and for a moment he couldn’t breathe. Isobel sighed. “Sorry,” she muttered. “What are you doing today?”

“It’s just me. I think I’ll start on that book you sent me. It looks interesting.”

“Great. Oh, Dad, I have to go,” Isobel’s voice fell, “we’re going to Richard’s parents’, I’m holding everyone up.”

“Oh, okay, but wait!” Douglas spoke quickly, “have you opened your present yet?”

“No,” Isobel whispered almost conspiratorially: “I wanted to open it alone.”

“Okay darling. I love you.”

“I love you, Dad,” Isobel replied, her voice back to its usual careless drawl. There was a click as the phone was returned to its cradle and the line went dead.

Douglas looked at the phone in his hand. The house was silent. He could feel every inch of the two hundred miles that separated him from his daughter.

-

“Oh, wow!” Martin exclaimed. “You’re a superhero!”

Alice smiled at him from behind her ginger curls. “And you’re the baddie, Uncle Martin!” She held her hand up with two fingers pointing at him in an approximation of a gun. “Pow! Pow! Pow!”

“D’aaargh!” Martin clutched at his chest and collapsed backwards into the sofa, prompting a gale of laughter from his small niece.

She stopped laughing, and Martin didn’t move. Slowly, she approached him, her forehead starting to wrinkle into a frown. Still, Martin didn’t move. She tugged lightly on the hem of his trousers.

“Uncle Martin?”

“Rarr!” Martin roared, leaning forward and scooping her up in his arms. Alice giggled and shrieked, kicking her legs. “I’m going to _eat you_!” Martin growled, putting his face close to her head and making chomping noises. The little girl giggled recklessly, the way only small children can. Martin planted a kiss on her forehead and she relaxed, curling up into his lap, one hand gripping his shirt. Martin looked up at his mother, a smile beaming across his face. Wendy smiled back at her son and patted him gently on the thigh.

-

Martin pulled into the driveway and turned off the engine. He looked at the house, dark save for the glow of a lamp in the living room, casting a shadow of Douglas at the piano.

Martin kicked open the door, one of the bags he was carrying slipping from beneath his arm and littering gifts across the floor. He bent down to scoop them back into the bag.

“Hi Douglas,” he called as he pulled his shoes off. The piano did not stop. Martin gathered up his things and deposited them variously in his room and the kitchen and returned to the living room. “Hi,” he said. Douglas carried on playing, staring intently at his hands. “Mum bought you a present.”

Douglas stopped abruptly, his hands going limp on the keys. Without saying a word he stood and pulled on his jacket, then strode out through the patio doors. He disappeared beyond the kitchen, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

Martin sat dumbly, looking from the patio doors to the gaily wrapped present in his hands and back again. He had known Douglas would be a bit prickly today, but he couldn’t work out what he could possibly have done wrong in the few minutes since he arrived home.

Just as suddenly as he had departed, Douglas returned through the patio doors, locking them behind him. It occurred to Martin that Douglas hadn’t had to unlock them to leave. Douglas marched through to the kitchen without looking at Martin, and the younger man sat awkwardly still holding Douglas’s gift as he listened to the sound of the kettle being filled and switched on. A drawer opened and cutlery clinked against cutlery. Soft noises of cupboards being opened; china on wood, silverware on china. The kettle rumbled increasingly loudly until a click indicated that it was boiled; pouring water.

Douglas reappeared with two mugs of tea. He set one in front of Martin and circumvented the coffee table to sit at the opposite end of the sofa.

“Thanks.”

Douglas nodded, his eyes on the floor. Martin sniffed. There was a familiar scent in the air, stronger since Douglas sat down. He frowned.

“Douglas, have you been… smoking?”

Douglas’s head snapped up. He caught Martin’s eye, who saw for a moment that Douglas’s held none of their usual composure. Douglas cleared his throat. “Of course. A cigar on Christmas day is traditional.” He held Martin’s gaze, now looking almost his ordinary collected self. Martin was a practiced Douglas-watcher, though, and noticed a slight furrow between the first officer’s eyebrows and a tremble in his clenched fist.

“No,” Martin said quite firmly. “You smoke a cigar slowly. And you certainly don’t hide at the end of the garden in the snow to do it.”

Douglas’s almost-collected expression faltered into a slight scowl. He hung his head and sank forward in his seat, elbows on his knees.

“You don’t smoke,” Martin said gently, as if reminding him of this fact. Douglas let out a long, slow sigh, rhythmically clenching and unclenching his fists. “I know Christmas must be hard for you-” Martin began.

“You don’t-” Douglas growled, looking up with a storm in his eyes. He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. “Can we please not do this?”

Martin looked down at his hands. He scratched at the cream stain on his jeans, a result of his nephew hurling himself at his legs immediately after dessert, before Simon had been able to catch him and clean the trifle off his face. He thought of Alice curled up in his lap asleep, one hand curled tightly round a bunch of his T-shirt fabric. He had lost heroically at Trivial Pursuits, having spent most of his life obsessively memorising flight manuals and operational procedures to the detriment of almost all other knowledge, but he still felt the warmth in his chest from the way the whole room had cheered when he got the pink cheese. He had bristled at the time, making a show of being irritated at being treated like a child, but secretly he enjoyed that he was still in some ways the baby. He glanced across at Douglas, and wondered what he had done all day. How it had felt to not only be all alone, but to have the one person he really wanted with him so far away.

“Open your present.” Martin picked up the gift and held it out to Douglas, who accepted it silently. He tore off the wrapping paper slowly, revealing a cashmere sweater in a deep grey-blue, just the colour to bring out the hint of green in his deep brown eyes.

“This is really nice,” Douglas said, faintly surprised. He rubbed his hand against the soft wool. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me. I had nothing to do with it.”

Douglas appraised the sweater quietly for a moment, then smiled slightly. “I think your mother may think there’s slightly more to this than you just living here.”

“Really?” Martin looked startled. “Oh.”

“I can always locate a girlfriend if that bothers you,” Douglas’s smile grew a little more with the teasing and the storm seemed to fade slightly from his eyes.

“No!” Martin snapped, too quickly. “I - I mean, it doesn’t bother me. Why should it?”

“Why indeed.”

 


End file.
